


Coffee Shop

by potatoscribbles



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8317201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potatoscribbles/pseuds/potatoscribbles
Summary: Chiaki was always thinking of someone like him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone, potatoscribbles here again! I wanted to thank teashoppe, deepseakana, raye, and YuutaIzu for their wonderful comments on Silver Lining as well as my chiakuro shippers out there on twitter for their support! I've been swamped with school lately, but I just wanted to throw this little gem out here to show that chiaki and kuro are still in my heart (laughs). well then! until next time! (bows)

He sits alone at a table set for two, the music of his player colliding with the music of the shop, the differences slipping through the many waves of decrescendos and crescendos. The smell of fresh grounded coffee beans is not enough to keep him awake as a slow, drawn out yawn escapes his lips; _it’s getting late_. Yet his eyes do not tear away from the block of scribbles tearing apart on the white canvas of paper. The sound of the store bell gets drowned out by the piano and subtle percussion echoing against his eardrums, so he feels like it’s almost a lie when he first hears his voice.

He orders a caramel macchiato, his voice deep and intriguing. Chiaki doesn’t see it, but he runs his hand through his hair as he smiles into the rows of pastries because he sees the other’s reflection on the glass next to the coffee cakes and chocolate chip cookies. _He’s breathtaking_. The way his jaw rests upon the palm of his hand and how his right hand wraps around the pen, he wonders what could have happened to his two fingers that have been wrapped in sports tape. He gazed at way his body curves over the table and how it allows his tousled, wavy chocolate hair flow over the space between his eyebrows. He wants to gaze into his eyes that are so focused on the paper before him, but instead he orders a coffee cake too.

Chiaki almost wants to catch a glance of the man with the interesting voice, but he focuses on the character he has been trying to nurture since the beginning of the spring’s first cherry bloom. He writes how he loves to write everything except for prose; that’s his specialty. So he writes in short, quick sentences because his mind works far faster than his hands. He writes how his hands are as beautiful as a model’s and suppresses a chuckle, questioning if he has ever worked a day in his life.

His character has, of course, from the many, _many_ projects he created for himself. He’s an advocate for a cause, exactly what cause, he hasn’t figured out yet. But he imagines him to be much like a hero – an inspiration – and that’s why he loves him.

“Thank you, come again–”

“Thank you.”

His voice makes it past Chiaki’s headphones, bouncing beautifully off his eardrums, and he almost looks up again; his voice sounds like it could be for his character. He quickly brushes off the idea once more and regrets it when he hears the door open and close. A sigh escapes passed his lips as he began to mouth off words. Part of him couldn’t tell if the words are based off of the song he’s singing or writing anymore. _It’s really getting late_.

Finally, Chiaki lifted his eyes from his piece of work, the pupils constricting in shock as his vision came into focus. The man sits across from him, his hands wrapped around the caramel macchiato close to his face, the lone coffee cake untouched as it rests between their table space. His slicked back hair was red like a freshly picked rose with a stem as if it was injected with poison, revealing the raven black hair that mirrored the night. His jade green eyes reminded Chiaki of Christmas as they lit up like a snow drizzled tree and his attire is fit for a mid-winter’s evening. His black long sleeved shirt is thin under his army green, hooded jacket, so he tries to make it up with his loose black beanie. He looks so much of the image he wants in his character.

He notices him and a smile appears on his face, making his heart stop in its cavern for a moment. “You finally noticed” he announces, his voice resonating into his soul. Chiaki’s mouth became agape, unable to construct a coherent sentence. “I’m sorry if I’m coming off too strong. I just noticed you a while ago and it is quite late out.” He pauses. “Wow, you really stand out.” His pause turns into coughs as he is unable to realize his sudden nervousness.

“Wow I’m sorry” he adds, chuckling lightly. He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck and tilting his head from side to side. “I’m Kuro.” Chiaki simply stares back at him with the same shock look on his face.

His character came to life.


End file.
